Classic Poem

Come closer, my maidens, I sway on my knees;
Oh, dark over me is the shadow of love!
This veil is a shroud for the winding of joy;
Oh, maidens, my heart was a dove
That trembled, that fell, that is dead of its fear,—
A storm over me is the coming of love!

Come closer, my maidens, the hour that is nigh
Is cruel, is close, is the winter a-cold
That creeps like a thief toward the summer's warm hands,
To steal all the flowers they hold;
I tremble, I swoon, for the hour that is nigh
Is cruel, is close, and my heart is a-cold!

Come closer, my maidens, the face that I fear
Is famished, is flushed, is the fire to the flower!
My years are yet few, and my songs are not sung;
Oh, father, the bride whom you dower
So richly to honour this marriage you make
Will die ere the fragrance has died from this flower!